


Juggling it all

by Nalyra



Series: Flipping platonically [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Canon Compliant, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Juggling, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Power Play, Strawberries, Teasing, flip flop sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: Loose continuation of "Consummation", their anniversary of the Dragon's Death leads to teasing, juggling and ... well, more.





	Juggling it all

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReservoirCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReservoirCat/gifts).



> Also gifted to @thehanniballook (twitter) because the prompts melded together (but I don't know your ID here)
> 
> ((Referenced feeding in the beast suit of Randall Tier is in my fic ["Clad in the skin of beasts"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348923), which I really like for some reason^^.))
> 
> Hope you like!

Will dances just out of reach of Hannibal’s hand, biting into the strawberry gleefully, some of the juice running down his fingers, his chuckle ringing through the kitchen. Hannibal shoots him a slightly dark look, with just enough warning in them to set Will’s heart off, beat increasing, energy rushing through him. Will watches as Hannibal turns back to the bowl, wooden spoon mixing the ingredients for the dough, shoulders working.

Will finishes the sublime strawberry and licks his fingers, meeting Hannibal’s eyes in the mirroring glass of the cupboard, grinning for a moment. He clicks his tongue, keeping the mirrored gaze, tone mischievous.

„So, how many more strawberries do you think I could…. steal before you actually try to slap my fingers with that spoon?“

Hannibal’s eyes flash, his hands still stirring the dough.

„You mean before I put you over my knee, insolent boy?“

Will snorts, tilting his head.

„You wish. Since I’m definitely no boy anymore you’d only hurt your back… old man.“

Will slides up behind Hannibal slowly, ignoring the harrumph, close enough to push his nose through the small hair in Hannibal’s nape, feels the pulse of breath push his chest against Hannibal’s back in intervals, the movement of Hannibal’s hands making the muscles in his back ripple. It’s still so new, this … added level, that Will is regularly flabbergasting himself to just do this, blinking with the intensity of the feeling, robbing his breath.  
He swallows and looks out of the little window for a moment, the wind torn fields beyond harsh in the morning light. The day is promising to be hot though, spent in the shadowy inner courtyard. Probably. He hums and then reaches past Hannibal to pick up his mug, taking a sip from the cooling coffee. He puts the mug back onto the counter with a small clink, enjoying the way Hannibal -not- tries to react to their bodies coming into full contact at the motion. Will bites his lips for a moment and then pushes his nose back into Hannibal’s neck, teeth biting softly, his hand reaching, feeling the moment Hannibal realizes literally run through them both. 

He skids back triumphantly, hand gripping four strawberries, the sticky spoon missing him by inches. He openly laughs at the decidedly dark look Hannibal shoots him this time, popping one berry into his mouth. Hannibal harrumphs again, tone dry.

„Resorting to these means of influence so early in the game, Will?“

Will chews slowly, eyes sparkling, staying safely on the other side of the room now.

„All’s fair in love and war they say and… definitely between us.“

Hannibal’s eyebrows rise up a bit, tone vaguely amused, not asking.

„Is that so.“

Will smirks, deliberating the three strawberries in his hand for a moment. He steps forward and puts two of them on the counter, sure that Hannibal will not take it away, now that Will has ‚won‘ them. He throws one of the strawberries into the air lightly, catching it again, slowly establishing a rhythm. Hannibal finishes stirring the dough, covering it with a damp cloth, putting it away into the warmed up oven before he turns, watching Will with a tilt of his head.

„If you wish to juggle you may wish to start by passing it from one hand to the other, increasing the force used until you are throwing it back and forth.“

Will stops, eyes narrowing suspiciously, tone beyond dry.

„You juggle.“

Hannibal chuckles, wiping his hand on his apron before stepping close. He takes the strawberry from Will keeping their gazes locked before he begins to throw it lightly from side to side, halting for a moment to retrieve the other two after a moment. Hannibal locks eyes with Will again and then starts to juggle the three strawberries, seemingly without effort. Will purses his lips, shaking his head slightly, and then he steps up to Hannibal, effectively interrupting the motion with his body, a strawberry tumbling to the ground between them. He licks his lips, whispering against Hannibal’s lips.

„Show off.“

Hannibal tilts his head just slightly, pupils dilating. The oven pings behind them and Hannibal smirks, bending forward to softly bite at Will’s lips softly before stepping back a step. He raises his hand and pushes one strawberry against Will’s mouth and Will opens his mouth slightly, making Hannibal work the strawberry in with slight pressure, flashing back to a moment long gone, in leather and skull. Hannibal’s finger hovers over his lower lip, tips touching his lower teeth, obviously remembering as well and Will closes his eyes for a moment, before he pulls back, chewing slowly. Hannibal looks at him for a long moment, another ping from the oven behind them shaking him out of his reverie. He pops the remaining strawberry into his own mouth, picking the fallen one up and throwing it into the trashcan. 

He turns towards the oven, taking the dough out to rest on the counter, his voice carefully neutral.

„How I wished to devour you that night.“

Will swallows, mouth dry suddenly, leaning against the counter. He smiles for a moment, remembering.

„I wanted you to.“

He watches the motion as Hannibal nods, once, voice grave.

„I know.“

Will nods to himself, old wounds flaring intensely for a moment before he lets them go, forcefully. Hannibal turns towards him again, a gulf of history between them.

„Our past will always have the power to rend and tear if we let it, like the cave bears teeth you wore so proudly.“

He hesitates, watching Will closely.

„Do you know what day it is?“

Will inhales deeply, eyes flitting to the window for a moment, nodding more to himself.

„I do.“

Hannibal purses his lips, words quiet.

„I have reserved a table in a french restaurant tonight. Will you join me?“

Will closes his eyes, the phantom taste of copper heavy on his tongue, the scar in his cheek pulsing for a moment.

„Of course.“

 

*****

 

They walk to the restaurant in the late evening, loose suits donned, the wind playing with both their hair. It’s dark and a clear starry night and Will’s stomach growls, the day spent swimming and lounging, drawing, reading, a vast difference to the months past, still stark enough a contrast to be utterly intoxicating. 

Hannibal casts a look at him sideways, and Will smiles softly at him before he averts his eyes again, feeling the lead weight of Hannibal’s gaze ground him in this reality. Will lets his own gaze flit over the crowds milling around them, a healthy mixture of tourists and shop owners, residents and otherwise merging into an anonymous whirl of people, swallowing their presence easily. Will lets his awareness drift, secure in the knowledge that Hannibal will steer them where they are supposed to go, his mind picking up vibrations, little pinpricks of tugs on his consciousness, easily mapping out … potential. He inhales deeply and then unfocusses his eyes on the night sky, following the light pressure on his back into a side street without missing a step. 

Hannibal pushes Will lightly into a dark corner and Will closes his eyes as the wall presses into his back, the furnace of Hannibal’s body heat a tantalizing contrast. Hannibal leans in and ghosts his breath along Will’s jaw, goosebumps erupting in its wake. Will’s hands come up, resting lightly on Hannibal’s upper arms, his face still turned up, voice dreamlike, shadowed with forbearing.

„This is a dream, is it not? Of reprieve and standing still, a moment in time, stolen.“

Hannibal hums, eyes glittering in the low light, his own hands petting Will’s lower back gently, fingers gliding over the cloth. 

„A reprieve, yes, while both our beasts are healing and recuperating, and everything is new.“

He smirks, eyes hard for a moment.

„The hunger will return, Will.“

Will blinks, slowly, the stars blurring together even more for a moment.

„Yours or mine?“

Hannibal lowers his head to Will’s neck for a moment, breathing in deeply before coming back up.

„Our natures were unleashed, finally together, precisely a year ago. Do you still believe you will not lock your metaphorical horns with me again?“

Will chuckles, his head lowering down a bit, to look Hannibal directly into the eye, sobering up slowly.

„I believe my metaphorical horns ache not for the same things to sate their appetite… How will we match our appetites when the time comes?“

Hannibal’s fingers press in for a moment, eyes flitting back and forth between Will’s, deliberating for a long moment. He sighs softly and then leans near, his breath tickling Will’s left ear.

„They will match, because -you- will choose…“

Will’s heart beats once, hard, his throat dry. He blinks, his mind flitting over everything he saw in the crowds, body tensing for a moment. He licks his lips, watching as Hannibal tracks the movement.

„Will you be content?“

Hannibal locks eyes with him, pupils huge. He smiles, sharp teeth glinting in the light for a moment, sending a shudder of… something down Will’s spine.

„I already am.“

Will purses his lips, searching his eyes, his own fingers pressing in for a moment, voice low.

„We changed each other…“

He inhales deeply and then leans forward to bite at Hannibal’s lips, almost but not quite drawing blood. He grinds the words out, eyes flashing, seeing the answering explosion of wild devotion in Hannibal’s eyes.

„You better be.“

He pushes Hannibal back, chin raising, waiting. Hannibal snarls minutely for a moment, eyes dark before he turns slightly, towards the restaurant at the end of the alley. Will steps past and leads the way.

 

****

 

Will draws the fork out of his mouth slowly, lips catching, the hum a low vibrating sound, audible even for the couple at the next table, amused glances tickling his consciousness. He chews the piece of meat with deliberate care, eyes closed, senses tingling with the awareness that Hannibal is watching him like a shark, has been for the last minutes, ever since Will decided to put on an… adapted version of the famous diner scene in ‚Harry & Sally‘. He sighs softly before he opens his eyes again, blinking deliberately slow, their gazes locking right away, playful stormy blue on pitch black with a sliver of red. Will licks his lips and puts on a very innocent expression, breathing the words on the exhale.

„Oh, that was almost better than the long pig back all those years back… the vegetables are very heavy on the ginger, though.“

Hannibal narrows his eyes, his own plate still suspiciously full and Will lowers his eyes … almost demurely with an effort, working hard on -not- smirking while he cuts off another piece, repeating… the show. When he opens his eyes this time, Hannibal’s face is a mask of nonchalance, napkin on the plate, pushed aside. Hannibal reaches for the wine bottle very slowly, all the while keeping his eyes on Will and pours them both some more wine. 

Will traces his front teeth with his tongue for a moment, watching as Hannibal deposits the now empty bottle into the waiter’s waiting hands, not even turning his head. He swallows and something in him clenches, wondering for an instant if he is pushing too far and then dismissing the thought as utterly inconsequential, nothing between them of such mundane concerns. Not anymore. 

He drags the last piece of meat through the sauce with another hum and puts it into his mouth with a sigh, hearing the woman at the next table snicker gently. Good for her that it is a very benevolent snicker runs through Will’s mind, other… transmitted emotions probably triggering different outcomes. Though, judging by Hannibal’s very void expression, all the rude of the world could be very safe from one Hannibal Lecter just now. At least for tonight. 

Will puts the cutlery down with a small pout of regret, blinking at Hannibal, his hand going for the wine automatically. He sees Hannibal mirror the movement, their sips a bit more deep than normal, watching each other swallow and Will hides his smirk by pressing his lips to the rim of the glass, forcing the mirth down by pure will. 

The waiter comes by and removes their plates, and Will makes a special effort to thank him for the excellent meal, emphasizing the superb meat. The waiter smiles at him and shoots a look at Hannibal, stone faced and rigid. He clears his throat and Will tilts his head up, displaying the hickey there for all to see for just a moment.

„Would you like the desert menu?“

Will smiles at the waiter and tilts his head a bit sideways. He licks his lips, his voice low.

„That won’t be necessary. We would like to have a ‚Banana split‘“. 

There is a literal pause where Will can see the waiters face pull into a frown of confusion and in which he can almost ‚hear‘ Hannibal snap. There is a slight clack and a wad of bills land on the table, just as Hannibal’s chair screeches back, and Will’s hair on his body stands up instantly. He turns his head back just in time to see Hannibal round the table, the woman at the next table hiding her laughter behind her hand now and Will cannot blame her, the expression on Hannibal’s face comically thunderous. Though, to be honest, it is a punch into the gut for Will as well, his body reading the signs just fine. Hannibal stops next to Will, his words addressing the waiter, while never taking his eyes off of Will’s.

„A splendid meal tonight, Miguel. Please excuse us now.“

Will lowers his eyes and then stands up slowly, feeling the air between them crackle with electricity. ‚Miguel‘ murmurs an ‚of course‘ and disappears, the room vanishing rapidly around them. Will inhales deeply and then turns, his skin prickling where Hannibal’s gaze falls, each step shadowed, only the barest minimum of space needed as decorum between them. 

Will walks back slowly the way they came, each step ramping his excitement up a notch, the push when it comes, really rather unsurprising. He braces from careening right into the wall with his hands, scratching them a bit on the rough wall under his palms, the slight coppery tang adding to the surreal note, the sounds of the people just a few feet away and just out of line of sight fading away.

Hannibal is there, instantly, pressing into him, breathing difficult. The line of his body shifts and aligns, and Will moans softly with the feeling of the effect he has triggered, pressing against him. Hannibal’s right hand snakes forward and up, pressing Will’s head back, constricting the air flow further for a moment before it gentles, just holding. His left pushes between them and presses between Will’s legs, just for a moment as well, just enough to make Will light headed. He gasps, feeling Hannibal scrape his teeth through the hair at his neck, sharp teeth almost catching. Hannibal’s voice is a low grumble, proud and vicious, a seeping tar, enveloping him.

„What a vicious boy you are, mylimasis. One could almost consider your level of teasing… rude.“

Will snorts lightly, pushing back into Hannibal for a moment before he breathes the words out, tilting his head minutely back.

„Almost… if you did not quite enjoy it so much.“

Hannibal nips hard at his nape and then presses with both hands for a long moment, robbing Will of sight. And then he is gone and Will pushes himself back and over, holding himself up against the wall with both hands, grinning slightly. Hannibal watches him from two feet away for a long moment, eyes dark, face cast in shadows. Will licks his teeth again, watches as Hannibal averts his gaze oh so nonchalantly and Will grins, feeling wildly carefree. 

He steps up to Hannibal after a moment, deliberately pushing his slightly bloody palms onto Hannibal’s neck under the collar, drawing them down to spread it. He leans close, whispering, listening closely to how Hannibal does not breathe for a long moment.

„It seems our appetites match tonight after all… race ya for who gets … to taste first.“

He pulls his hands back very slowly, carefully rearranging Hannibal’s lapels so they cover the blood stains in the process. Hannibal’s face is unreadable, or would be to anyone else, the only real visible emotion so very clear to Will in the corners of Hannibal’s eyes, where the mask breaks as if in slow motion, indifference giving way to molten hunger. Will’s insides clench harshly for a moment and then he takes off, not even thinking about it, lest he tips Hannibal off. 

He takes the direction back to the restaurant for a few meters, before heading down another little alley between houses, dark and almost quiet, his footsteps reverberating in the little spaces, jarring through him. He cannot hear Hannibal behind him and does not expect to be able to, knowing this added level of hunting will make Hannibal even more dangerous, the beast so close to the surface, and yet… conversely, will make Will even more safe from it, -that- hunger redirected. And the people around them as well. 

Will skids down a few steps, trying to catch his breath, taking two turns to get back into general direction of their house in the outskirts, slowing down when he gets back onto a more frequented street. He pushes his hands into his pants pockets, changing his gait, the very picture of a relaxed tourist, until he reaches their street, the low noise falling away in their quiet corner of this town, their house at the far back and quiet as well. Too quiet. Will licks his lips and picks up his steps, trying to be extra quiet but knowing it to be futile, his scent probably giving him away. He narrows his eyes, pulling his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, changing directory on a whim. He enters their house through the kitchen door, grinning when he sees the pie on the counter, desert beckoning. 

He feels a prickle at the side of his neck and inhales deeply, arousal running freely through him now. He deliberately turns towards the counter, breaking off a piece of the pie, before turning around, the living room dark before him. He puts the piece into his mouth, humming softly, the taste exploding in his mouth, words whispered with only a hint of amusement.

„Mhhh, even better than that steak…“

His world tilts and Will laughs deeply, darkly, freely, trying to hold onto Hannibal as he is carried over Hannibal’s shoulder and thrown onto the couch after a few steps, his laughter turning to gentle snickering as he pushes himself back on the large couch with his hands, not even trying to get into a better position.

„Only a few steps? I told you I’m too heavy for your back…“

The shadow over him -moves- and then settles on him, Hannibal’s hand fisting into Will’s hair, hot breath making Will gasp. Hannibal’s other hand comes up and grips his jaw, just this side of brutally, likely to leave bruises. Will moans, feels the pulse of lust run through his body, feels the answering thrum in the man above him, antlers piercing through the darkness. He fists his hands into the cloth of the sofa, instinctively knowing to keep them off of the beast just now. Hannibal tilts his head and pushes with his thumb and Will follows the pressure, opening to Hannibal, moaning deeply when Hannibal dips his tongue in, tasting. Again and again, the hot wetness emulating other activities, hands preventing reciprocity, shivers of electricity spreading with every time their tongues meet. Hannibal starts to suck on Will’s tongue after long minutes and then finally seals his mouth over his lips, his hands letting go and Will undulates under him and finally brings his hands up, holding onto the soft strands himself, using enough force to tilt Hannibal’s hand so he can kiss back properly.

Hannibal growls into the kiss and then turns Will forcefully, and Will gasps and laughs, feeling the pull on his pants, feels how Hannibal only releases the belt enough and only pulls them down enough for access. Hannibal pulls Will over the edge of the sofa, and Will shivers and groans, fully clothed except -there- still. Hannibal pushes Will’s briefs out of the way and Will moans again, starting to pant harshly now, unworried still and wanting. There is a ripping sound and Will mewls, hips rocking for a moment, the slap to his backside making him gasp and then laugh, halting the movement again. A flurry of movement behind him and then hands on his hips, a cold touch, just pressure, holding. Will lowers his forehead to the couch, almost hyperventilating, needing now and knowing it really is not the best idea.

Hannibal growls behind him and then presses forward, not quite slowly enough and Will opens his mouth in a silent scream, vaguely thankful that they are no strangers to this anymore, his body adapting with only the slightest effort, just shy of painful. He gasps when Hannibal bottoms out, moaning sharply when he bends forward, his teeth scraping against Will’s neck. Hannibal holds for a long moment, his words reaching Will as if in a dream.

„Guess I won…“

Will snorts and then moans as Hannibal shifts, pressing into Will with the perfect angle, sparks going off behind Will’s eyes. Hannibal pushes Will’s feet apart further with his own, changing the angle even more and starts rolling into Will and words leave Will, his world reduced to the enveloping heat, making his body sing with pleasure. Hannibal’s hands glide up and under him, pressing and squeezing through the cloth. Will hisses, the pants constricting him almost painful now, the motion and repetitive pressure against the edge of the couch not helping. He groans, this time with the edge of pain in it as a sharp thrust tugs at his own cock the wrong way and Hannibal gasps, holding for a long moment before he does it once again. Will snarls in an almost smile, sacrificing the pain to the beast, giving his utterances freely, catering to all the needs of the man he loves. 

Hannibal growls after a handful thrusts, stilling, breath harsh in Will’s neck. His hands come up and tilt Will’s head sideways, brushing the hair from his neck and Will closes his eyes, feeling speared open on dual points, physically and mentally. Offering. Hannibal leans forward and pushes onto Will’s neck with his weight, his hips starting staccato thrusts and Will stops breathing, the pain and pleasure an iridescent thing, fluttering and melding under the pressure of Hannibal’s hands. He feels the pleasure mount but cannot crest, the surrounding pressure too harsh and it brands against his soul, battering his body. He is vaguely aware that Hannibal shifts his weight even more, his world reduced to white hot pressure, the wet slap forcing his breath. 

And then it is gone and Will gasps harshly for a few times, trying to get his bearings, slowly returning from the almost space-out, unbearably aroused and nerves raw. He turns with an almost growl, seeing the glint of Hannibal’s teeth in the dark, his whisper reaching him after a moment, following the movement of lips.

„Lock your horns with mine… beloved.“

Will breathes deeply for a long moment and then undresses with jerky movements, flinging his clothes over into a corner of the room, uncaringly. He juts out his chin for a moment as an indication for Hannibal to do the same and watches as -his- beast follows the command, elation spreading through him. He looks down at the little pouch, frowning when he sees it empty. 

Hannibal grins wolfishly at him and then stalks forward, pushing Will back onto the couch, settling on his knees above him. He leans near, breath tickling Will’s ear, dark amusement coloring his tone.

„Well, I -was- here first…“

Will draws back slightly and looks at him, his hands coming up to position Hannibal slowly, their gazes locked. Will grins widely and then snarls, letting his own darkness flow, accepting the permission. He tightens his hands and then pushes Hannibal down, the glide obviously prepared, sees the dark pupils dilate even further and then unfocus, lids descending, the breathy exhale addictive. Will smiles softly and then forces Hannibal up with his whole strength, dropping him again after a moment, their moans coinciding this time. Hannibal’s hair is falling into his eyes, his face a mixture of possessive ecstasy, watching Will closely, smiling slightly, probably deriving as much pleasure from watching as from the physical act itself. Will pulls his lower lip between his teeth and slams up, vowing silently to change that, viciously satisfied when those eyes close for a moment, when the breath hitches.

Will pauses for a moment, the heat excruciating, knowing he won’t last long now, but wanting to wipe that smirk off of Hannibal’s face nonetheless, their game always afoot. He tightens his grip on Hannibal’s hips and then heaves up, throwing Hannibal onto his back on the couch, breath leaving in a rush, a delighted expression of darkness crossing Hannibal’s features, just before it dissolves into pure lust, Will putting his whole weight behind the slam. A grunt is forced out and Will does it again, holding on by force of concentration, slapping Hannibal’s hands away when he tries to reach for his cock between them, his voice rough.

„No.“

Hannibal snarls at him but puts both his hands up over his head, pushing against the armrest. Will pushes Hannibal’s legs up and together, leaning them over his left shoulder, the added pressure making him light headed. He can feel it coil, Hannibal’s eyes boring into him, demanding. Will shuffles up onto his knees, spreading them wide, sees the moment he finds the perfect angle by the involuntary drop of Hannibal’s lower lip, the almost inaudible moan, stealing itself out. Will smiles softly, leaning forward just a bit, breathing the words.

„I will make you come now, Hannibal. Give yourself to me.“

Hannibal’s expression halts into a mask for a long moment, broken when Will actually starts to piston his hips gently, just enough to see the effect, his own orgasm rushing up his spine, holding on by pure force of mind. He keeps Hannibal’s gaze, watching as that mouth drops open further, as the sounds change cadence. 

„Yes….“

He is not sure whether he has said it or if Hannibal did, but it does not matter, the fall inevitable now. Again. He feels Hannibal break as if in slow motion, the rhythmic contractions triggering his own, offering his gaze as sacrifice, swallowed up whole in blackish red, his body dissolving in an almost painful whiteout of pleasure. 

 

****

 

He comes back to himself laid out over Hannibal, legs dropped to both sides, nose tickled by sweat, still running down their skins, their bodies still connected. Will moans and then moves his hips in small motions, just to hear Hannibal gasp. He grins and then pushes himself up a bit, licking at the dried blood, mixing with the sweat, moving his hips some more, the soft squelching sounds filthy and utterly satisfying. He pushes himself up a bit more, licking his lips, watching Hannibal watch him in the dark. There is a defiantly vulnerable sated expression on Hannibal’s face, dissolving into delight as Will watches, Hannibals finger coming up to wipe a diluted blood red droplet from Will’s chin. Hannibal licks it off, humming gently and Will grins, voice still raw, both hissing when he separates them with a twist of his hips.

„Ah… we’re not doing this -only- on our anniversaries, are we?“

Hannibal frowns, eyes narrowing.

„What do you mean, mylimasis? We have had sex often since we have healed. As well as flipping.“

Will traces a finger down Hannibal’s chest, smirking softly.

„Yes, that’s not what I meant.“

He hesitates, clicking his tongue, swallowing around the words.

„I meant the added hunt. It really… matches my appetite.“

Hannibal tilts his head after a long moment and then smiles, voice vaguely breathless.

„Would you like to … expand on that?“

Will hesitates and then pushes a finger onto Hannibal’s lips, pressing until he can feel the teeth. He locks their gaze, tone utterly serious.

„Eventually. Maybe…“

He snarls just a bit, dropping his voice to a whisper.

„My hunger will tell.“

Hannibal smiles wolfishly at him and it travels through Will, the helpless obsessive devotion in those eyes matching the roaring hin his ears. Will breathes deeply and then lets the prospect drop away for now, shifting slightly. He crunches up his nose, shrugging slightly.

„Guess we’ll have to buy a new couch first…“

Hannibal laughs at him, a deep, guttural sound that claws at Will’s soul, making it soar in helpless delight, the antlers threading them together pulsing blood red.

**Author's Note:**

> \---------
> 
> Kudos and Comments feed my muse!  
> Criticism is welcome!  
> Please feed me :)


End file.
